


You Hate Me?

by TonyStarkissist



Series: IronDad Bingo [6]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bullying, Gen, Good Peter, Hurt Tony Stark, Kid Tony Stark, Precious Peter Parker, Press and Tabloids, Protective Peter Parker, Self-Hatred, Tony Feels, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Has Self-Esteem Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 11:45:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19106440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TonyStarkissist/pseuds/TonyStarkissist
Summary: It's okay. I hate me too (and it's all because of you).IronDad Bingo Fic #6Trope: Bullying





	You Hate Me?

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNING!!!  
>  This isn't like super extreme, but there is a few small mentions of suicide and self harm. There's a lot of self hate too. 
> 
> I've never really written anything super angsty like this before, but I tried.   
> Sorry if it feels a bit rushed... I literally threw this together while I was in one of my depressive episodes for maximum effect lol.

The tabloids have always been known for their blatant hatred for the mess of a human being named Tony Stark. Of course, there were those select few reporters and articles that highlighted his few wholesome qualities, but people weren’t quite as drawn towards opinions not laced with drama and hostility. 

The first truly demeaning article published about him that he could actually recall was when he was about 14 years old, attending a special gala with his parents during his Christmas break. His father had been giving a speech, and, yeah, Tony had snuck a couple drinks over the course of the evening, but this guy started choking on an olive in the middle of his father’s spiel and he didn’t even have any time to think before he was jumping into action. What was he supposed to do? Ignore the poor man? But in his drunken haze and fervent panic, he couldn’t quite remember the typical operating procedure to perform for a choking person, so he acted on instinct and reeled back his fist to send a punch straight into the man’s gut. It worked though, and the olive went sailing across the room, but the idiot demanded to press charges after he caught his breath and realized he was a Stark. And, of course, since no one else had witnessed the event in its entirety, young Tony had been labeled as a hostile, drunk, know-it-all without an ounce of human decency at the age of 14, and that title followed him all through his teenage years and into adulthood. The choking man had been set on getting his money and he wasn’t at all put out by the fact that it would require tearing down a somewhat innocent boy in the process.

His father had been pissed, even after Tony had finished explaining his side of the story. The press had been having an absolute field day with the abomination of a human being that turned out of Howard Stark’s son and Howard was beyond livid… and his mother, well… she had been disappointed. She didn’t speak a word to her son for nearly three days after the event. How could Tony blame them though? He had never done anything particularly noble, and he wasn’t known to be a truth-teller, but he had just wanted to help. He supposed that was what happened when you tried to help a person, so he didn’t go out of his way to try it out again. 

After that, trouble just seemed to follow him. The press disregarded his accomplishments and highlighted the many many mistakes that only seemed to worsen the older he became. You couldn’t really blame the people either, because the mischief Tony Stark got up to was pure reporting gold. It granted them thousands, if not millions, of extra readers every time he didn’t something particularly stupid. The non-scientific community weren’t quite as interested in his inborn genius, and his amazing creations, lectures he gave, and ideas he had. People had always, and would always, be drawn to drama. And Tony Stark was the absolute Drama King.

So, over the years, he grew used to it. He grew used to the bullying comments made by human rights advocates, anti-war hippies, even some of his ‘friends’, and anyone else really… because they weren’t wrong. He was a selfish, immature, irresponsible, violent, impulsive, rich brat, and he’s long since accepted that fact. He remembered how the comments used to bother him as an adolescent and young adult. The self-hate, and depression that stemmed from the thought that everyone in the world, including his own father and mother, _hated_ him with a passion. He had tried multiple times to prove his worth to the world, but he had always messed it up some way or another. And no matter how many so-called friends he would acquire over the years he could always see right through them. He could practically hear them talking and laughing about him behind his back. He knew they only wanted his money. But he didn’t care. He was fine with lying to himself for a while to gain a couple good friends even if they only lasted a few months. 

He at least found one good friend, and Rhodey was probably the only reason why he hadn’t accidentally or purposely overdosed during those years at MIT, and even several years after.

He got over the deception quickly though, disregarding the people after realizing it wasn’t worth it to spend his time pleasing them, because the only person he should work on pleasing was himself. So, that’s what he spent the next few years doing. Spending every waking minute to prove to society just how right they were. To prove to his father that, yes, he really was all that the man believed him to be.

It wasn’t only the press and dumb college druggies either. After he took over the company… it was rare for anybody to take him seriously. His ideas were typically discarded by the board and Obie; nothing he wasn’t used to. His employees and coworkers had no respect for him even though he was the boss! He’d hear the whispered rumors as he walked down the halls, most regarding his inability to run the company or his nightly, drunken escapades, and he’d grit his teeth in annoyance before fleeing to his workshop to create something unquestionably amazing to prove his worth even though he truly believed every word the spoke. 

Eventually, after a few years, R&D grew to respect his inventions, and the board members were impressed with the advancements he was making for the company. When it came to management… it was rare for anybody of any worth would actually listen to him. So, at about 26, he just stopped trying. 

Even the people who worked for him believed the tabloids, so, really, what hope was there for the ordinary people of the world to look beyond what the magazines and newspapers said? He couldn’t expect the world to respect him, trust him, and believe in him when his own company wouldn’t… when his parents hadn’t.

The whispers and the shame never stopped… so he never did either.

Then, he had been kidnapped, tortured, and traumatized. He had had an epiphany in that cave. He realized how much he had done to hurt the world, and people in general during his years of spite fueled by self-hate, and he was determined to do everything in his power to fix it.

He became Iron Man, and he had pronounced his identity without hesitance, because he needed to be accountable for his actions. He couldn’t stand behind a mask, avoiding the responsibility and inevitable repercussions that would befall upon him during his doings as a superhero. He had already gone down that road during his years of selfish ignorance, and it had only brought trouble. He was determined to be accountable for his own actions, because honesty formulated trust, and he wanted people to trust that he genuinely cared.

Of course, when the news of a new enhanced robot-like being had shown up in California, and it had defeated another robotic enemy, the people had been both terrified and ecstatic at the possibility of someone, or something, there to protect them. Then, the people had learned who was really behind the mask, and it only went downhill from there.

Tony would sit on his couch every night for the following weeks, toying with a gauntlet, clenching his teeth until his jaw cramped as he watched reporters go on and on about his irresponsible actions, inability to protect them, and the unavoidable careless mistakes he would eventually make just as he had in the past. 

Pepper and Rhodey had both encouraged him to watch the positive reports that were being given about him instead, because they knew about his tendency to spiral into a pit of self-hatred at the slightest mention of any of the deeper insecurities he’d been dwelling over for years, but he knew better. People didn’t want positive when it came to him. People wouldn’t believe those things; they’d disregard them as laughable lies and move on to the interesting, problematic portion of Tony Stark’s personality.

He tried. He really did. He did everything in his power to help the people and prove to them that all he wanted to do was help. 

His public image went up and down through the following years. People would slowly begin to trust him and look up to him, but then sometimes he would mess up, and people would hate him all over again. Still, even despite the rare good, there were still many, many people who resented him during those times. They could always find some reason to hate him. There were fan pages dedicated to spreading their hatred for him and some news outlets were still fascinated with fabricating any lie they could to make everything that went wrong in an Avengers battle to be his fault. Which was cool, he was fine with that, because not all of it was really that wrong.

He had developed a disgusting habit through the years as a result. He’d sit down once a month and watch the negative reports about himself on the TV, always zeroing in on his blinding flaws. Sometimes his teammates would come close to catching him in the act, but he was always careful to make sure they never found out. He didn’t want them to know how the world really felt about him; to introduce the hatred the world rightfully harbored for him… but perhaps they already did. It would give them more ammunition to use against him. They were the first true friends besides Rhodey that he had ever had, and he couldn’t risk losing them because they found out how insecure, hated, and terrible he really was. Heck, Steve had already been influenced by the press and tabloids on their first meeting, and the hero had believed every word he read. Tony was too scared to find out who the man would trust when it came between the world and Tony Stark himself.

Tony had always been one to focus on the negative rather than the positive, especially when it came to himself. His self-image had already been ruined as a teen, despite the front he put up for the tabloids, and whenever a particularly demeaning characteristic that he had been hyper-aware of for years came to light, it sent him spiralling into a fit of depression and anger and he’d lock himself down in the lab, destroying, and days later rebuilding, his proudest accomplishments over and over again. It made him feel some sense of control. 

He always sent Dum-E and U out of the room though, and he always shut down JARVIS for the night… he didn’t want to risk hurting them during his monthly fits of rage. He hated himself so much on those nights. He hated that he couldn’t be what people wanted him to be, and that he couldn’t live up to the high standard all his other teammates seemed to accomplish without a problem.

Years later, he was doing the same thing. His teammates, his friends, were gone… they betrayed him. The people of the world were terrified of him and all he stood for. His best friend was crippled because he was selfish, and the love of his life left when he refused to give up the one stable thing left in his life; the one thing that kept his head above water, knowing he was at least trying to help people. But everything was still his fault. The world knew it and they weren’t shy to tell him to his face. Everything was just so, so much worse. 

So, just like every first Saturday night of the month he’d sit down in his workshop, bottle of scotch ready in his hand, and he’d instruct FRIDAY to stream the latest ‘lies’, as Pepper had called them (but he knew better), that had been circulating that month. He’d pay attention to the complaints given by citizens, especially when they suffered some sort of hardship as a result of an Avengers mission, and he’d do his best to reimburse them with both financial help and physical labor to rebuild anything they had lost. Any major disheartening actions or qualities brought to light that month would be mulled over intensely, worked through his brain a million and one times, before he set forth a plan of action to fix it. It didn’t always work. In fact, it rarely worked, but he _tried_. He tried so, so hard.

***

Peter loved going to spend time with Mr. Stark. After the Ferry incident had happened, the genius invited him over to the compound for some special training. Peter had been beyond excited to train with Tony Stark himself. He had _always_ looked up to the man ever since he was a small child. He was his hero.

He remembered back when he was a bored thirteen year old, literally obsessed with the Avengers, particularly Iron Man, and he’d spend every waking moment scrolling through Twitter or Tumblr, or Facebook to find anything as to what they’d been up to that day. He had run across some not so nice thoughts expressed by some haters, and he didn't hesitate to set them straight. He had always been a hardcore Iron Man stan, and he couldn’t stand that they would speak of his hero in the way they were. Because the man was human, and he was allowed to make mistakes sometimes. Thankfully, the positive fanbase for the man was much larger than the negative. Iron Man was by far the most loved of all the Avengers, but still the most hated. And that had always pissed Peter off.

So, yeah, now he knew Tony Stark, his hero, personally, and he was allowed to visit every week! Sometimes they’d train in one of the training room and sometimes they’d go down into the lab to mess around with his suit or another project.

This week, though, he hadn’t been able to make it to the Compound because of Decathlon and the ridiculous amounts of homework he had to squeeze in between patrols. But Happy had said the Mr. Stark probably wouldn’t mind him stopping by on the weekend. So, here he was, Sunday morning, jittering excitedly inside the elevator as it descended to Mr. Stark’s workshop in the basement.

He hadn’t been greeted by FRIDAY, which he found a bit odd, but perhaps he assumed he was just down for maintenance for a couple hours. No biggie. 

The elevators eventually opened, and the first thing he noticed was Dum-E and U chilling in the corner of the hall outside of Mr. Stark’s lab entrance. Peter quirked a brow curiously at the bots, and the two robots whirred excitedly at the sight of him. He greeted them with a smile and a pat on their arms before punching in the code to enter the lab. He was met with another bout of confusion as he glanced around the complete chaos and utter destruction that had befallen the room.

“Uh,” Peter mused with wide eyes, “Mr. Stark?”

“Kid!” Tony responded in surprise, popping up from behind the destroyed hot rod engine. “What-what-what are you doing here?”

“Oh, um, Happy said you probably wouldn’t mind me coming over this weekend.” Peter answered in a panic. _What if Mr. Stark did mind? What if he hated Peter now? Oh goodness! Mr. Stark hated him for sure._

“Oh,” Tony mused tiredly. He glanced around the lab with a tight frown before returning his gaze to Peter. “Sorry for the mess kid. C’mon in. If I had known you were coming, I would have cleaned up a bit.”

“It’s alright Mr. Stark,” Peter responded hesitantly. He slowly made his way across the room until he was standing on the other side of the hot rod, watching as the man worked his magic on what looked to be a unsalvageable piece of machinery. “What-um… What happened in here?”

Tony chuckled under his breath, waving his arm dismissively. “Oh, I do this every month. It gives me something to do.”

“You-you destroy everything?” Peter questions, utterly perplexed.

“Well yeah,” Tony answered lamely, “that way I can rebuild it.”

“Oh, cool,” Peter drones quietly, “what are Dum-E and U doing outside?”

“I sent ‘em out there so they wouldn’t get hurt. Grab that wrench over there for me, will ya kid?”

***

The two of them got a lot closer as the weeks passed. Peter started staying over on the weekends once May picked up the weekend shift so she could come home earlier during the week to have dinner with her nephew. Peter had a blast on those weekends. He had his own room and everything, which was absolutely epic! He and Mr. Stark ate dinner with Pepper and Rhodey sometimes, and they’d watch a lot of movies too. Peter loved it.

They’d always stay up super late in the labs, or watching movies, on Friday and Saturday because, well, Peter didn’t have school or go home because May was expecting him. 

But then one Saturday night was different… 

“Alright, why don’t you call it a night and head up to bed, kiddo.”

Peter frowned and cocked his head to the side in confusion as he casted his mentor a questioning gaze. Mr. Stark never sent him to bed early, in fact, it was usually the opposite. It was typical for Peter to be so exhausted that he had to convince Mr. Stark that, yes, he needed sleep because he was a growing teenage boy.

“Uhhh… it’s only like 10 Mr. Stark. I’m not tired.”

He saw the man’s jaw tighten. “Just… just go to bed Peter. Watch TV, play on your phone, whatever. I don’t care. But take your project up to your room with you.”

“Mr. Stark,” Peter whispered softly, his eyebrows furrowed. He tightened his grip on his web shooter. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing, Peter,” the man responded tersely.

Peter didn’t argue anymore. He slowly started to gather his project into his arms. He eyed the man suspiciously once more before slowly making his way out of the room, but Mr. Stark didn’t say another word. He went up to Mr. Stark’ personal floor and was met with Pepper quietly lounging on the couch with her STARKpad in her lap. She glanced up at him curiously when he stepped into the room and Peter quietly admitted to her that Mr. Stark had sent him to bed early for some weird reason. 

Pepper didn’t say anything to that, really, which was even more weird. She just nodded her head sadly in acknowledgment and bid him goodnight. So, Peter hung his head, fled to his room and sat on his bed. He tried questioning FRIDAY, but she didn’t give him an answer. She remained uncharacteristically silent.

He waited an hour or two, listening closely for Pepper to go to bed, or even Mr. Stark, but Peter had a feeling that the man wouldn’t be going to bed early that night. He couldn’t help but think back on that first Sunday he came to visit Mr. Stark and the absolute disaster of a lab he had found when he went to greet the man. It made a gross feeling pool in his gut, and he really, really didn’t feel good about that look on Mr. Stark’s face when he left the room.

Eventually, he could hear Pepper’s soft footsteps move down the hall and her and Mr. Stark’s bedroom door close behind her. It was nearing midnight by then.

“Hey, FRIDAY? Is Mr. Stark going to go to bed soon?” Peter questioned in a whisper.

She didn’t answer, which only seemed to increase his anxiety. His senses tingled uncomfortably, and the anxiety gave birth to fear.

Peter jumped from where he was seated on the bed and he dashed for the door. He tiptoed down the hall, past the master bedroom and took off running towards the elevator. He jittered anxiously as he rode the elevator down to the basement floor, to the workshop.

The doors opened too slowly…

He rushed out in a flurry of limbs and wide eyes. Something was very, very wrong. He was met with the familiar sight of Dum-E and U huddled in the corner of the hall, emitting sad whines. Peter’s heart picked up speed and his breaths came in short, panicked bursts as the twinge in his neck became more prominent. He could hear yelling and crashing, and banging coming from the other side of the glossed glass and he rushed for the door to punch in the code… but it didn’t work. He punched it in again, and again, and again, but it wouldn’t work. The banging and crashing continued and Peter whined desperately. Something was wrong with Mr. Stark. Something was very, very wrong.

In the midst of his panic, there was a long, slow beep, and the door unlocked with a short click. Peter stared at the door for a moment, and he instantly knew who it was. He turned up his head to smile thankfully at the ceiling before grabbing the handle, throwing the door open and rushing into the room.

He was met with quite a sight.

Tony stood at the center of the room with a sledgehammer in hand as he swung it angrily into the side of the hot rod over, and over, and over again. The workshop was in ruins. Peter’s desk was covered in scrap metal, mangled bolts and ruined tools, and Tony’s was blanketed in old projects leaking oil, looking beyond repair, and a glass bottle that had been shattered. Amber liquid pooling around the surviving head of the bottle. Peter watched with his breath caught in his throat as his mentor released an angered shout, swinging the heavy hammer over his head to bring it down forcefully onto the hood of the car. Then he dropped it. He collapsed to the ground, bracing his back against the ruined car and hanging his head in his hands. 

He was done.

There was nothing left to destroy that Peter could see. He slowly gazed over the destruction. In the corner of the room he saw the news on the TV playing, with several holographic screens alongside it to display articles of some sort. 

He felt tears begin to bubble behind his eyes as he stepped closer to the side of the room to see what exactly was being played on the screen. It was news coverage of the Rogue Avengers… and Tony’s face was displayed in the corner as the reporter went on bashing shamelessly into him, blaming everything on Tony Stark and his selfish actions. Peter shook his head in denial, eyes wide with fear, clenching his teeth in anger as he stared through the tears to focus in on the reporter’s face. The TV flickered momentarily as it autonomously clicked to a new channel, and he was met with a different reporter. She spoke about leftover Stark weapons that had been uncovered in Eastern Asia earlier that month, accusing Tony Stark of forcing his company to deal under the table once more to make up for the loss of funds from the cleanup work he was paying for in Sokovia.

Peter’s face fell, horrified at the awful lies escaping from the womans mouth, and his attention quickly snapped over to stare at the holographs. 

_‘Tony Stark is responsible for the fall of the Avengers: Rumor has it he attacked Steve Rogers and arrested his teammates, denying them a fair trial-’_

_‘Tony Stark is just as selfish and immature as he was when he was a child’_

_‘Iron Man gives up. He was never worthy of being called a hero. He only fights for himself’_

“Mr-Mr. Stark?” Peter whimpers pitifully, unsure of where to turn or what to feel. Everything was just… it was all so, so, so wrong. The world was so, so wrong.

Mr. Stark didn’t answer him. So, Peter turned away from the screens and carefully made his way across the room to where the man was still hunkered against the destroyed car.

“Mr. Stark?”

He was met with a defeated groan. 

Then the man’s head was lifting and Peter saw his eyes. His expression was empty, his eyes rimmed red from tears. His gaze dropped to the man’s knuckles, which were split open and bleeding down the length of his arm and fingers. 

Peter couldn’t help but cry.

“They’re so, so, so wrong Mr. Stark.” He cried, dropping to the ground beside his mentor to wrap his arms around his waist. He leaned into him and cried into his shirt, squeezing him hard. “They are so so so WRONG! You can’t listen to them. They’re so wrong.”

He felt a hand lift to pet his head, but there were no words to accompany the attempt at a comforting gesture. 

“You’re so amazing Mr. Stark. None of this is your fault. None of this was ever your fault, and it never will be, because you’re _good_. You’re so, so good. You’re human… but you still try even after you mess up. And that’s so, so _good_ Mr. Stark.”

The hand curls into his hair, gripping locks between their calloused, bloody fingers, and Peter can feel the ripple of a sob vibrate through the man’s chest. 

“So good,” Peter whispers, tucking closer to the man with an insistent shake of his head. “So, so good.”

***

After that. Peter spent the first Saturday of every month, tugging his mentor to the Living Room, where he, Pepper, Rhodey and Happy would all sit on the couch watching the positive reports about Iron Man on the big TV. They watched random YouTube videos of little kids rambling happily about Iron Man and how much they love him and want to be just like him. They look at Memes, tumblr posts, and Tweets praising Tony and his compassion and love for the people. Pepper always brought fan mail for him to read through too, and it seemed like Tony enjoyed that part the most.

He’d always cry as he read through the letters and looked at the drawings. He cried every time, but Peter always made sure he got lots and lots of hugs, because Mr. Stark needed to know how much people really loved him.

**Author's Note:**

> can this even be categorized under the bullying trope? I don't know. I hope so. Cuz it sure seems like bullying to me.


End file.
